


His Eyes

by waywardimpalawriter



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardimpalawriter/pseuds/waywardimpalawriter
Summary: Summary: Unexpected visit leads to a small revelation.





	His Eyes

Dark road, rain beating down on the windshield, wipers going ninety to nothing to keep the water from blocking your view and the man you’ve known almost all your life sits next to you. Glancing every few minutes towards a brooding and soaking wet Dean Winchester. “Wanna talk about what’s eating you up over there and why exactly you had me pick you up in the pouring rain?”

A grunt is what you get back his eyes focused much like yours on the front windshield and the driving rain. Had it not been decades of knowing him you would’ve thought he's angry at you rather than brooding in his own juices about God knows what.

“Something’s happened to Sam? Cas?” you venture to guess praying both men are alive and relatively unharmed.

“Fine,” is the only answer he gives eyes still trained on the road as silence envelops your car like a dark shroud.

Wanting to ask more though a little voice in the back of your mind which sounds eerily like Sam’s telling you to drop it for now; he won’t talk just yet anyway. Just the fact that Dean had been walking down some street in the rain a few miles from a motel most likely the one they were staying at, and not far from your house is slightly odd. Especially given the fact that you haven’t seen each other in quite a few years; in fact it’s been four and a half years now since you retired from hunting, if you could call it that. Especially since Bobby’s death a loss that still weighs heavily on your heart. You and Garth that is till he took off as well; had become the go-to on Supernatural baddies. Swapping back and forth on who plays the FBI, Captains, and anyone else in higher authority when the hunters with their fake badges need help fooling local PD.

The silence getting to you, “Sure you don’t want me to take you back to your motel?”

“Your place,” is all he answered still wringing his hands that rest between those powerful thighs.

Thighs you hadn’t thought about, who were you fooling? Of course, you’d thought about them and so much more over the years of separation. Every once in a while when things got stressed, a case didn’t go how either of you wanted you’d find comfort in each other’s arms back then. On those lonely dark nights, you missed those times, missed him and his brooding ways. Hell, you even missed hunting from time to time as well.

Shaking your head those kinds of thoughts needed to stay out of your mind now wasn’t the time, “You gonna actually string more words together than that Winchester or do I stop the car and you get out?”  

“I failed him Y/N,” voice low, filled with a heavy guilt that broke your heart. “True is, I failed them all.”

You could guess who Dean’s talking about the only person, the reason he keeps fighting for a better world, the one person he’d die to protect… Sam. “What happened?”

Fear wrapped it’s self around your heart squeezing, praying that Sam wasn’t dead, that Castiel is okay and not burnt angel wings. Attention split between listening to Dean tell the story from when you last saw them. How Sam took on the trials to close the gates of hell. Of how the trials destroyed his body to the point of death; how he called out to Castiel first but got no answer then to the other fallen angels. Two appeared one by the name of the Ezekiel fought and killed the other unnamed angel. How Dean tricked Sam into letting Ezekiel into his body to heal him and now Sam was the lead in a weird version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Pulling into your drive, cutting the engine you turn to look at Dean whose head is bowed hands still twisting in his lap. “He’s okay now though right no lasting effects?”

“Other than the fact that he pretty much hated me for a while, yes he’s back to our loveable Sammy,” a low snort leaves his lips as he goes on to explain more.

Meeting their grandfather, finding the Men of letters Bunker, Abaddon, Cain, the Mark of Cain being branded onto his arm and The First blade; ends with him dying by Metatron’s hand. That makes you gasp and look at him like he’s grown a second head but you listen with rapt attention.

Of his partnership with Crowley, being a demon, “Butch and Sundown,” you make the comment with a half smirk for which you receive a glare from the man next to you.

He goes on to tell you all about being turned back, trying to get the mark off, killing Death and bringing God’s sister Amara back from prison the key, of course, is the mark. Chasing after and finding out that Chuck is really God and has been on earth for the longest time.

Dean’s fixing to explain the last year when you take a breath you move to open your door looking back at him, “And in all that time you never once thought to pick up a damn phone? Text me, send carrier pigeon anything or way to tell me your sorry ass is still alive,” demanding tone to your voice, anger flashing in your eyes.

“What’d you want me to do Y/N I couldn’t very well stop to give you a ring a ding on the phone for a quick fireside chat,” face flush as he glares right back at you. “Goes both ways sister you could’ve done the same thing.”

“I did and every fucking phone number I tried didn’t work and when Garth went MIA and couldn’t find him I had no one to call. When I needed someone to lean on I had no one,” hurt colored your tone as you get out quickly, running through the rain to your front door, opening and stepping in.

The loud clap of thunder masked Dean following you and the slam of your car door. You hadn’t expected him to be almost right behind you nor that he would catch the door you’re ready to slam in his face.

“Listen I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

Whirling around to face him, “Then why in the hell did you? Barreling back into my life like some tornado after being gone with no word, letter, or text not a damned thing for so long.”

“Cool your heels Dorothy I promise not to drop a house on your cute ass,” a smirk appearing on his face that’s wiped away by the look on yours. “Honestly I don’t know why I called you or why I decided to go Singin’ in the rain, but I did it and I’m here now. So you got any dry clothes and pie?”

Shaking your head, “Think your cute huh?”

“I’m adorable sweetheart you know that.”

Snorts turning to head back to your room, catching that he’s gonna follow, “Stay,” hands out in the age-old sign of stop. “I’d tell ya to sit but I don’t want your mange all over my couch.”

“Haha, you so funny Y/N… not,” Dean retorts but stays in the same spot pulling his soaked flannel off carefully letting it fall with a wet slap to the floor.

Meanwhile, you’re searching through the spare closet for something that would fit Dean. Not having a boyfriend to steal clothes from in a while had put a hamper on the selection but you managed to find a pair of jeans and t-shirt that’ll fit him fairly well. Unless of course he’s gained weight/muscle since the last time you’d seen him naked. Shaking those thoughts from your mind once again, he wasn’t here for that and you didn’t need him back in your life complicating matters.

Returning to the living room you have to pause seeing him standing there in almost all his glory, boxers still on much to your chagrin, to hand him the clothes then head towards the kitchen hell bent on keeping your distance for now anyway.

Back to the entryway of the kitchen getting the Keurig ready to make a cup of coffee, you don’t realize that Dean has finished changing and come to lean against the door frame, bare feet crossed as he watches you work. Something familiar yet foreign about how you flit from one place to the next; getting mugs ready, selecting the right brew, cream, and sugar. A jolt of surprise rocks through him when you remember exactly how he takes his coffee.

“Old habit or from memory?” stepping into the room wincing when you jump dropping the spoon from your hand to place it over your heart.

Turning to glare at him, “Announce yourself next time Winchester I could’ve blown your head off.”

“Not likely I’d been standing there for a good five minutes and you didn’t notice,” he returned with that infernal smirk on his full lips that you want to smack right off that handsome face. “You slippin’ darlin’ better start practicing again or you’ll lose it.”

Grabbing up the paring knife you’d used earlier without blinking you turn and throw it dead aim at the spot Dean once stood. In fact, the very spot his head occupied. With a raised brow, “Still take it with cream and sugar right?” nothing being said about the knife.

Looking between the knife and you he nods, “Can I use your washer?

“Through there,” pointing to the doorway by the refrigerator. “Don’t overuse the soap and make sure all your shits out of the pockets for cryin’ out loud,” you call going to the fridge and pulling out the last bit of pecan pie.     

By the time he’s got the washer going you’ve set out a slice of pie and coffee each at the small two-person table by the window. Rain still lashing against the blinds covered pane combined with the howling wind you're thankful for this nice cozy house and coffee.

Stepping back into the kitchen Dean pauses seeing the little setup, “Expecting company? Should I guess who’s coming to dinner?” 

“Haha,” you parroted back at him from earlier. “Sit your ass down and eat, it’s not much but I know you’ll eat it.”

“What man in his right mind would pass up pie with a beautiful woman,” he commented taking the opposite seat as you suggested.

Another snort leaves your lips wondering how he could say something like that? When you were standing in your small kitchen dressed in ratty jeans, boots, t-shirt, which now that you think about it you’d stole from Dean years ago as it’s a Led Zeppelin band shirt, and grey flannel, hair up in a messy bun. 

“Yeah, you need your eyes checked Dean,” taking the other seat and sipping your coffee slowly watching him devour his piece of pie and starts go eat yours. “If you value that hand I would keep it on your side of the table and away from my pie.”

Grinning, “Still got that same spunk in ya sweetheart.”

“Not much has changed about me Dean except I don’t hunt anymore; I answer phones especially after Bobby,” swirling the tine’s of your fork in the gooey filling of your pie not bothering to look up at Dean right then.

You’ve never told the eldest Winchester why you stopped hunting not that he asked. Most likely `thinking it’s because of some guy. How close to that assumption he’d be. But not only that you were tired of losing, tired of watching good people die in a never-ending war.

“You still with me,” snapping his fingers in your face that you smack away when they get too close, “Guess so.”

Fixing him with narrowed eyes, “Why did you really call Dean? It’s been what three years since we last saw each other and now you just come back into my life. Why?”

“Figured we’d come full circle eventually,” taking another sip of his coffee Dean stares down into the creamy brew trying to gather his thoughts. “Amara gave me back the one thing I’ve always wanted.”

“What a brain?” comes the snarky comment before you can stop it only glancing up when he doesn’t respond. “Couldn’t help it’s hard habit to break, picking on you at every turn.”

“We did spend a lot of time together after all in and out of bed,” you swore a ghost of a smile flittered over his lips but it’s gone, making you think you were seeing things. “And no it wasn’t a brain. It’s Mary, my mom.”

For a good long while, you gape at him unsure if he’s pulling your leg or telling you the truth. You never had the pleasure of meeting Mary, having only met the brothers a little after their father was killed. “I… I don’t know what to say, Dean. Congrats seem weird and at the same time I know it has to be odd having her back.”

“It’s…” he tries to gather his thoughts to voice what he’s been feeling. Always so easy to you, to talk about anything that’d been bothering him even the heavy stuff, Dean would always go to you till you weren’t there anymore. “Complicated Y/N that’s for sure. For the first little bit it was unreal, then she left to figure things out and it’s dad all over again. I couldn’t wrap my head around it for the longest.”

Reaching across the table for the first time since picking him up to take his hand, “You will get through this Dean, you and Sam always seem to come out on top.”

Fixing to say something to rebuff your words, when the front door comes banging open, “Mama, mama,” a little boy’s voice calls as a blur of sandy brown hair, Captain America shirt and more energy than a supernova he came running in, jumping into your arms.

“Mama,” hugging you tightly around the neck resting his little head on your shoulder; you look to Dean who’s staring at the boy with a closed off expression. But his downcast eyes on the table and the way he’s sitting straight up tells you he’s both uncomfortable and maybe even a bit curious.

“Bobby where’s Grandma Jean?”

Huffing a little and wet in places Grandma Jean steps in the kitchen doorway looking first to you then Dean with a small frown on her lips. “Little stinker couldn’t wait to get in here to see you.”

Combing your fingers through his hair, “Thank you for watching him while I worked this evening Jean it means a lot to me.”

“Nonsense girl he’s a joy to have around and brighten my otherwise horrible days,” she motions with her head to Dean. “Want me to take him upstairs for a bath?”

“Please,” patting Bobby’s back. Who pulls away to look at you, “Go with Grandma Jean for a bath buddy mama has a visitor right now.”

Turning to Dean, piercing him with those molten whiskey green eyes, the same ones that stare back at him in the mirror every time. “Who that?”

“Baby this is Dean an old friend of mine,” looking towards Dean. “This is Bobby my son.”

Swallowing harshly Dean extends his hand towards the boy who stares at him almost calculating in his perusal of Dean. “Hey young man nice to meet you I’m Dean.”

Looking back at you; which you nod that it’s okay before accepting his hand towards Dean, “I’m four and three quarters,” he states matter of fact shaking Dean’s hand then returning his gaze to you. “Can he play with me, mama?”

“Not right now baby, go wash up first. Have you eaten?” he nods with a little pout on his lips. “If you’re good for Grandma Jean we’ll have a candy apple at the fall festival this weekend.”

His eyes light up with a quick nod and a smile that could light the whole world. “Okay mama,” kissing your cheek before heading towards Jean who scoops him up into her arms.

“You need anything holler I’ve got my 22 with me,” she states firmly sending a glare to the back of Dean’s head.

When we're alone again you stand from the table gathering the dirty dishes unsure how to approach the subject; no the elephant that just left the room.

“So were you seeing other people back then?”

Slamming the plate down thankful it’s not glass, “Of all the fucking questions you could ask and that’s what you chose Dean?” shaking with anger you keep your back to him because if you turn you know something will be flying at his head.

“What am I supposed to think Y/N?

“How about the fact that he’s your son dip shit or the fact that you didn’t bother answering, getting back to me, hell even speaking to me after the last time we made love,” shaking your head turning to stare at him while yelling. Watching his head bowed in shame, “You choose to leave Dean, to walk out of my life and not look back. I tried to get in contact with you so many times.”

“I’m so…” his words are cut short when a glass comes flying at his head shattering on impact with the wall as he ducked at the right time.

“You don’t get to say that, you don’t get to apologize for something you could’ve fixed. You get to walk out of this house and not come back because we don’t need you now and never will,” even as you say those bitter words that burn your tongue, you know there a lie. You’ve always needed him more so now than before. Yet the prideful part of you won’t let you say that nor will it let you break in front of him.

Running a hand through his hair tugging making the strands stand up, “Just keep safe…”

“This house is warded against all super…”

Shaking his head, “I know you can handle that but humans they are trickier than any vampire or demon ever will be.”

“What are you talking about Dean?”

“Just protect yourself and,” he swallows hard glancing towards the kitchen door, “Bobby. I don’t want anything to happen to either of you especially now.”

Gapping at him arms crossed a glare on your face, “You don’t get to make that call Dean it’s out of your hands and frankly, right now I’d like you to leave.”  

Giving you one last look not sure if he’d ever see you or little Bobby again he wants to memorize each feature. “I truly am sorry for not being around if I could do things differently I would. But that’s not my fate,” eyes closed at that thought he turns to go. “Be safe Y/N,” whispering, “You have my heart always have.”

Watching him go tears start to stream down your cheeks unchecked as you lean back against the counter a slump to your shoulders that jump when the door slams shut. To keep yourself busy and gather your feelings before going up to see Bobby, you grab the broom and dustpan to pick up the broken glass. That ironically matches your heart.

Outside in the drizzling rain Dean pulls a frame from his jacket to look it over one more time. The photo depicting you and Bobby at the playground smiling having a good time; it’ll be the only thing he’ll have of the two of you. Putting it back he pulls out his cell phone next finding the number and swiping to dial.

“Find her?”

“Yes and no, come pick me up; corner of Birch and Smith.”

“What’d mean Dean?”

“Just that you need to hack into the British men of letters database and erase everything they have on her. We’ll have to get any hard copies they may have. Because I swear to God Sam if they lay one hand on her head I will kill them all,” Dean growls ending the call and stuffing the phone back into his pocket. Head down as he walks towards the very corner he told Sam to pick him up on.


End file.
